Fever
by asherlockholmie
Summary: John Hamish Watson, 16 years old, seemingly innocent, probably a virgin, not for long if Sherlock has anything to say about it.


Sherlock Holmes was bordering on either drinking himself into oblivion, or flashing out and going up to every single person who was currently wandering around his property and telling them everything he knew they didn't want to hear. He was almost positive he could clear out over half of the house and the only reason he stopped himself was because he had just walked into the dining room.

Nothing was extraordinary about the Holmes's dining room. Well, that is, not usually. Now however, Sherlock quite enjoyed being in the dining room on an account of it held a certain person that he, for some odd reason, had not been able to get off of his mind for two weeks, since the very first moment he set eyes on him.

Sherlock closed his eyes and took a deep breath, going over everything he knew about said person.

John Hamish Watson, 16 years old, innocent new student, probably a virgin. So far, the two weeks he has been attending he has made a decent amount of friends. Wishes to be a doctor, jogs in the morning, grades are above average and he feels pressured by his family.

None of these qualities were out of the ordinary, they were quite normal in fact. Sherlock walked across the crowded room, doing his best to not be noticed as to avoid any boring, unnecessary conversations at all costs.

"Hey, Sherlock!"

Luckily, the man who was calling him was his only school acquaintance, Jim Moriarty, whom he knew he could never trust due to the fact that he could sense his intentions from a mile away. The only reason Sherlock did not immediately tell him to back off and ignore him completely was because he knew what would happen and he simply just did not have the time for that. It was easier this way, safer.

"Hello." He replied dryly, reluctantly taking the glass of amber liquid that Jim was handing him. He tilted the glass towards his lips, inhaling the scent of the liquid as a precaution before taking a small sip.

He continued to observe John in his peripheral vision, only half listening to the babble Jim was spitting at him. John was talking to a girl, or rather, a girl was talking to John. It was clear that he was uncomfortable with the situation. The thought made one of the corners of Sherlock's mouth twitch upwards into a half smirk. John took a long swig of his drink.

There was another thing Sherlock knew about John. It had, of course, been a pleasant surprise. It took him a day and a half to be absolutely positive. He observed all of the signs and he read all of the body language. John Hamish Watson was undeniably, inexplicably, and to Sherlock's misfortune, _furtively_ _gay_. Though Sherlock was too of course, but he had much different reasons than John, better reasons he believed.

He saw John politely decline the girl in front of him one last time before turning on his heal and walking briskly out of the room, probably to go and search for his friends.

"Sherlock, your brother is rather fond of throwing parties lately I've noticed." Jim was saying, his voice clearly strained. Sherlock could tell he was annoyed with him.

"So it seems." He drawled, growing just as annoyed. "I've got something to attend to." He stated, downing the last of his drink before handing the empty glass to Jim and exiting the room after John.

This was his chance, his chance to get him alone and talk to him, although, he had no idea why he was doing this. Something was drawing him to the boy known as John Watson and he had no desire to control himself any longer. He turned corner after corner, his eyes darting all over every room, searching for the room John had gone into.

After minutes of searching he finally saw what he was looking for. A disturbance in the carpet told him that John had chosen to hide away in a closet, how ironic. Just outside the door of a walk in closet in one of the guest rooms he saw that the corner of the carpet was turned upwards. He locked the door behind him and strode across the room to the closed door. He turned the knob and walked right in, shutting the door behind him and switching on the light.

John had been leaning against the wall, a drink in his free hand as the other was supporting him against the wall.

"Oh, I'm so sorry I just-" John stopped short when Sherlock began unbuttoning his shirt.

"What are you doing?" he sounded alarmed but Sherlock was observant enough to hear his voice get caught in his throat at his last word.

"It's hot in here." Sherlock replied, letting his purple dress shirt fall into a heap on the floor.

He saw the mental battle John was constantly fighting flash across his eyes before he began making his way for the door, only to have his path blocked by the tall shirtless form of Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock was possessed, he felt he was no longer in control of his actions and he couldn't stop himself. His strong hands grabbed John's hips, easily lifting him off of the floor and placing him on top of a dresser that had been shoved into a corner.

"John," he breathed into his ear, inhaling the aroma of the cologne John had carelessly sprayed on his shirt collar. "I'm going to kiss you now."

Before John could even begin to contemplate the protest that was rising in his throat Sherlock brushed his lips at the corner of John's mouth. John found the man before him breathtaking and John had already had a few too many drinks, his head was spinning.

Not even a second later their lips were pressed firmly together, tongues darting in and out of each other's mouths while Sherlock's hands roamed over every part of John's body he could reach. He brushed his fingertips over John's nipples as he began trailing hot open mouthed kisses down the side of John's throat.

"Sh-Sherlock." John managed, his breathing was ragged and his eyed were already half closed.

"Mmm, you know my name?" Sherlock breathed out between kisses. It was truly a surprise to him but he ignored it for now, only concentrating on the trembling man before him.

There was a loud banging sound on the bedroom door and Sherlock cursed under his breath.

"I'll take care of it and we are not done here." He ordered, kissing John one last time before heading for the door.

To say the least, John Hamish Watson had never been more confused and turned on in his entire life.

**This is my first multi-chapter johnlock story and I am way excited about it, if you're confused about anything it will more than likely be cleared up in the next chapter and if you're reading this I love you, you're great.**


End file.
